Alternative Comfort
by charles weatherby
Summary: Harry Potter is leading a happy life. NOT AU. just an alternate idea. :] anywho, Erica, Harry's wife, becomes ill and when Draco comes calling asking for forgiveness, what is a man in need to do? HrPOC, HrPDrM


**Title: **Come Undone  
**Author: **charles weatherby  
**Rating: **M  
**Pairing: **DrM/HrP, HrP/OC, HrG/SvS  
**Warnings:** Adult Language, Sexual Situations, probably sad stuff.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters hereafter (only the plot). All the characters in the Harry Potter universe belong exclusively to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and other affiliates.

**Short summary**: Harry Potter is very happily married to a muggle girl called Erica. She's absolutely stunning, and they lead a wonderful life in the midwest U.S... but what happens when Erica contracts a life-threatening disease and Draco Malfoy is suddenly back in the picture... and asking for forgiveness?

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A/../N.. okeydoke, this is kind of like, a drabble to begin the fanfic. exciting, no? its not really finished and polished, but i would love to hear what you all think!!!

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The day was raw, the morning sun barely cresting the mountainous landscape. A dewy glow encircled the rural surroundings as one Harry Potter rose from a deep slumber. His eyes winked open slowly, muted light filtering in through the open window and cradling his body in a gentle radiance.

A young lady was curled up next to him, her long blonde hair draped across his naked torso. Her eyes were softly closed, pale lips slightly parted as her small chest rose and fell gracefully under the covers. As the unexpected light hit her pastel face, her nose scrunched up instinctively and her body crumpled closer to his, burying her head into his neck. Harry automatically sneaked his arm around her petite shoulders, trailing his fingers up and down her slender arm and taking in her rosy scent.

Glancing lazily at the alarm clock on his oaken bedside stand, Harry blearily noted the absence of his glasses, which were imperative to any kind of clear views. With the arm that wasn't devoted to Erica, he reached across the bedside table and grasped them with long, sturdy fingers. Returning them to their rightful place upon his careworn expression, his emerald eyes wandered back to the harsh red numbers as apparent on the digital display.

"Oh, fuck!" he whispered angrily. "How the hell did it get to be 7:30?"

Groaning, he removed his arm from underneath Erica as swiftly and gently as possible, and raced to his dresser.

The drawers were soon flung open, their contents emptied onto the gleaming wooden floor. Erica Broadstone suddenly awoke thirty seconds later to a startlingly empty space and a blaring alarm.

After gazing, disoriented, at the alarm clock for a spare minute, Erica finally worked out that Harry had run off to work, late again, and tenderly pushed the off button. She pushed aside the heavy comforter, and shoved her dainty feet into a pair of slippers resting just under the edge of the bed. Her long, lean legs took her trim frame all the way to the bathroom, where she shrugged on a periwinkle terrycloth bathrobe and elegantly cinched the waist. A pallid, unblemished complexion greeted her in the mirror. The two greatest blessings in her life, she fathomed, were her disinclination to facial disturbances and her ability to eat whatever the fuck she felt like and still look like a model.

It was true; as she turned around in the mirror, scouring her body with critical glances, there was almost nothing to complain about. Her torso was just skinny enough that you might see her ribs on occasion, but fleshy enough that she appeared healthy. The only thing that bothered her, as she lifted up the robe's skirt, was the small, tender indentation marring the back of her left thigh. She wasn't worried about the health complications this may have signaled; only thoughts of marred perfection crossed her meticulous mind.

Deciding to forget about the small defect for the time being, she hastily returned to studying her chiseled features in the medicine cabinet mirror. Waves of white-blonde hair cascaded down her back, complementing the steel gray of her harsh yet beautiful eyes. Her eyes created most of her beauty; her nose was just a nose, and her mouth was nothing special. She even sometimes wished that the charming curves of her soft lips were a bit more defined, like the women she saw in Parisian fashion ads. Erica shook her head at the thought of those women. They squandered their beauty in the most awful outfits and torturous makeup designs she had ever seen. Anyways, Harry loved her just the way she was. He reminded her almost every day after returning from work.

Emerging from her morning inspection session, she glanced out the window and realized that it was the beginning of a gorgeous day in the Midwest U.S.

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A//..//N.. review, por favor!


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